Enchantment
by She's a Star
Summary: The story of Moulin Rouge unfolds in a land of fantasy, magic, and legends as a jaded siren and naive minstrel find love.
1. The King

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Enchantment

by She's a Star

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A bit of a twist on everyone's favorite love story...

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Summary: The story of Moulin Rouge unfolds in a land of fantasy, magic, and legends as a jaded siren and naive minstrel find love.

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Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann. 

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Author's Note: I know practically nothing about fantasy and such, so I'll be kind of inventing things as I go along. :) I may make a mistake or two, but this is NitaFantasy, okay? *hehehe* Completely different thing. And yes, sitars are from India, but ah well. This is a _magical_ sitar. Completely different.

Well then...heeere we go. 

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Chapter One

It is often thought that the fairest in the land should be a princess or queen. After all, they are the personifications of grace and elegance, and what else could those attributes equal to but beauty?

And yet, the fairest in the land was not a princess, nor queen, nor duchess nor countess. As a matter of fact, they were not a lady of the court at all.

Rather, the most beautiful woman in the entire country of Rougia was a siren.

Sirens were dangerous, deadly creatures. One note of a sweet song, and a man could be eternally lost to her. It was not the love of the man that a siren earned upon captivating him. Oh, no: love was something unknown to such a creature. Rather, it was lustful desire. You could not love someone who did not have a soul. 

Sirens, it was told, did not have souls.

No one even thought of considering the possibility.

For a man to capture a siren was a most glorious feat. It was difficult, but not unheard of. In order to do so, the man must sing back to the siren; if for one moment her guard was let down and she lost herself in the beauty of the song, she would belong to him forever. She had to do whatever the man commanded, and if she attempted to free herself from him, she would begin to waste away. 

Once this started, only his song could save her.

If, of course, he chose to save her, which rarely occurred. After all, to rob a siren of her life was a most impressive victory, and the sooner they were killed, the better. They were dangerous, meaningless monsters; only existing to awaken desire and sin in helpless males. 

Creatures of the underworld.

Our tale begins on one fine midsummer morning, in the palace of a king called Duke. Why he was called Duke, no one was quite sure, for it was quite a confusing task to figure out whether he was a king named Duke or a duke named King. 

Now, in his own opinion, King Duke was the most brilliant human being ever to walk on earth. He was an intelligent man, well-read with a library full of important texts. (Yes, he'd never even touched the majority of the books, but that was quite an unimportant detail.) With complete confidence, he could say he was the most handsome man in his kingdom of Monroth. (If you wanted to get technical, this _was_ because he'd had all the more good-looking ones banished or beheaded, but ah well. Did that really matter?) Women were known to grow faint at his very presence, it was no doubt in Duke's mind that they would commit murder to become his queen. (What he did not know was that the first murder they would most likely want to commit was his own.)

Within his palace, King Duke had many magical and marvelous things that he'd felt necessary to make his home do justice to his marvelous self. Though he very much enjoyed the room filled with frogs that he had come accustomed to smooshing daily (good exercise, frog smooshing. There was nothing quite as satisfying as feeling their insides squish under your shoe and their little voices croak in one last 'ribbit'.) and the chamber full of lovely maidens, his most prized possession was by far his magical sitar. The sitar had been a gift from a queen who inhabited a faraway land, and its powers were extraordinary: it could only speak the truth! The king had learned many valuable things from the sitar, including the names of men who were more handsome than him and if the cooks were trying to poison his meals. (He had come to suspect this when his royal food tester had dropped dead seconds after tasting the rabbit stew. Of course, the cooks had been disposed of immediately, and new ones had been found.) 

On this particular day, he had a most pressing question for the sitar, one which had been on his mind for quite sometime.

"O Magical Sitar," he boomed in his deep and intimidating (in his mind...in actuality, it was rather nasal and squeaky) tone, "I need this knowledge now, and of course the truth. Who is the most beautiful woman in all of Rougia? She must be my wife."

The sitar struck a few notes before responding in its heavily accented voice, "The most beautiful woman in all of Rougia is a siren called Satine. She lives in the Diamond Territory with a few others of her kind."

"The Diamond Territory!?" King Duke repeated incredulously. "But that's all the way across the country! A man as important as myself simply cannot make such a long and dangerous journey! What shall I do?"

The sitar replied, "Give the task to the man with the gift of song. It is destiny."

"What??" Duke asked, dumbfounded. 

This time, the sitar had no response.

_Oh well,_ Duke thought. _I'll know in time. After all, it's destiny._

And with that, he left the sitar and delightedly made his way to the frog room, which had been refilled with amphibians that morning. It had been a long and exhausting morning, and quite confusing as well. Who was this man with the gift of song??

_I suppose, _the king said to himself silently, _Time will tell._


	2. The Minstrel

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Chapter Two

A glum sort of aura floated about the four minstrels that made their way through the Enchanted Forest of Rougia. They were an odd lot: one dwarf, one old man, and two young. Mischievous fairies zoomed back and forth, little beams of lime-green light. One of them attempted to land on the shoulder of the dwarf, but he brushed it aside, annoyed. The fairy crossed her tiny arms indignantly and stuck her tongue out at him before disappearing within the blossoms of a cherry tree.

"We'we doomed!" the distraught dwarf, who was called Henri, cried. He was a comical little figure, barely reaching the elbows of the others and with a head of curly black hair. His mother had been human and father dwarf, which gave him a more human appearance than the others of his kind. Because of his breeding, he'd been scorned by the majority of both species, and yet the prejudice had never seemed to bug him. Mostly, he was a cheerful little fellow, but today it was not the case. 

"I do not know why we are even going," one of the young men, this one named Jacek, responded passionately. "We may as well be walking into our graves! If King Duke does not like our performance, he shall have our heads!"

"Perhaps we could find someone else to sing," Erik, the more quiet of the young men, said softly. 

"Don't be a fool," snapped Jacek. "Where could we possibly find someone else?"

"Hiccup," contributed the old man, Doc, before taking another swig of his grog. The fairy that had landed on Henri's shoulder earlier was flittering around his head, and Doc was muttering, "Fly, little green fairy...fly!" under his breath.

The others dismissed his behavior with an understanding shake of their heads before they continued.

"I cannot bewieve that Audwey weft us!" Henri exclaimed. "He was so tawented...the whole reason why the King wanted us to perfowm fow him!"

"Dead!" Jacek responded, making a slicing motion across his neck with his index finger. "Heads cut off like fish!"

"What we need right now," Erik said quietly, "Is a miracle."

Jacek opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when the faint sound of singing filled the air.

_"The hills are alive..."_

Immediately, all four minstrels fell silent and studied the direction in which the voice was coming from with identical expressions of awe.

_"...with the sound of music!"_ continued the voice, growing nearer and nearer. 

"Incandifowmous," Henri murmured, dazed.

A few bushes were pushed aside, and the owner of the voice stepped before them. He was a young man, perhaps three-and-twenty years of age, and very handsome. His eyes were the blue-gray of the sky after a rainstorm, and dark hair flopped into a youthful face. 

"With songs they have sung," he continued brightly, "For a thousand years!"

He held the last note for a few seconds, and it echoed through the forest a moment before silence resumed.

"You!" Henri cried after the ability of coherent speech returned to him. "You'we ouw miwacle!"

The young man looked both confused and embarrassed. "What?? I...um...I didn't know anyone else was out here; I-"

"Silence!" Jacek ordered, stepping forward and critically studying the young man. "What is your name?"

"Er...Christian," he responded, studying the ground nervously.

"Well, Christian," Jacek said, his tone menacing, "You must come with us to perform at King Duke's castle or we shall kill you!"

Christian gulped.

"Oh, nonsense!" Henri cut in, laughing. "Don't take him sewiouswy, Chwistian. We just need anothew membew in ouw band of minstwels. Ouw singer, Audwey, has weft."

"Um...a king?" Christian repeated. "Well, I-"

"Pwease, Chwistian?" Henri asked desperately. "If we do not pwease the king, he'ww have us kiwwed!"

"No," Christian replied quickly, his handsome face contorting into an expression of terror. "No, I'm quite sorry, really, but I couldn't-"

"Oh, he wouwdn't kiww us if you wewe thewe!" Henri assured him. "You'we amazing!"'

"Really, thank you," said Christian, inching slowly away from the seemingly crazed group of minstrels, "But I...I've come to..."

His voice died off, and he nervously ran a hand through his hair. 

"You've come to what?" Erik asked, his soft voice barely audible. 

"Tobeaminstrel," muttered Christian, eyes firmly focused on the ground.

"Speak up, boy!" ordered Jacek, pulling a knife from his boot and waving it threateningly at the flustered young man.

"To be a minstrel!" yelped Christian, running from Jacek and taking cover behind a tree full of fairies. "To be a minstrel! Honestly, are you all mad??!!"

"But of couwse!" Henri responded cheerfully. "How couwd you expect to enjoy wife if you went about being sane aww the time?"

"You say you're a minstrel?" Erik said politely. "Well, we really are in desperate need of one. Our best minstrel has left our troop, and we'd be eternally in debt to you for your services."

"Fly little green fairy! Fly, fly away!" Doc added from the corner where he sat, waving his arms madly at the mischievous fairy.

"Pwease, Chwistian?" begged Henri. "Just do this fow us."

Christian looked as though he'd rather remove, cook, and eat his own fingernails. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he said, "Fine. Yes. I'll do it. I'll help you."

At once, shouts of thanks from the four minstrels filled the air as they threw their arms around him.

"You'ww be the gweatest minstrel in aww the wand!" Henri proclaimed joyfully. "A twue legend...the man wif the gift of song!"

~ * ~

Christian couldn't help but enjoy the presence of his four odd companions. Before they'd come, he had traveled alone for many miles. It got lonely, without anyone to talk to, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to give if it meant not living with his father any longer. 

Christian had grown up in the Dragon Territory with his father and younger sister, Camille. Their mother had died during childbirth, and Christian had only the faintest memories of her. His father was horribly strict and not the least bit open-minded, and had Christian's entire future planned out for him before the boy even reached ten years old. He was to become a dragon trainer just as his father had been, and live his whole life avoiding being either stomped or burnt to a crisp.

Call him crazy, but Christian hadn't exactly wanted to go into that profession.

He'd kept that fact hidden from his father for as long as possible, but finally couldn't take it anymore.

_"Father, I don't _want _to be a dragon trainer."_

"That's nonsense!" Christian's father had replied tersely. _"What else could you possibly want to be?"_

"Oh, I don't know." A lie. Christian had wanted to be a minstrel his entire life. _"A minstrel, perhaps."_

"A minstrel?" Christian's father had scoffed. _"Certainly not! What good can your being a minstrel do for the world?? You will be a dragon trainer, and your soul will be soothed with the knowledge that you are saving the lives of people! Untrained, those beasts would tear our homes apart, kill our families! When trained, they can be used for business purposes and-"_

"It's awful, the way they're treated," Christian cut in. _"They're just used as pack animals, like huge mules! I think it's wrong to train them when they're meant to be free. I won't go into that business...I won't follow in your footsteps."_

"You will_ follow in my footsteps!"_ bellowed his father, _"Or you are no longer my son! You'll end up wasting your life with a common peasant and never amounting to anything! I won't allow it, I tell you! I won't allow it!"_

And it was quite clear that he wouldn't, so Christian had done the only thing that he _could_ do.

He'd run away.

So here he was now, on his way to perform for the king of Monroth. He wondered what his father would think of _that._

_I _will_ amount to something_, Christian swore to himself, _Even if only just to spite him._

But nervousness crept up on him as they neared the huge palace, and by the time they reached the front gates, Christian was positive he would lose consciousness at any moment.

"What is it?" grunted one of the guards, standing so stiff that Christian had mistaken him for a statue.

"We awe minstwels," Henri responded promptly, looking not the least bit perturbed. "The king reqwested some fow his upcoming baww that takes pwace in a fowtnight."

"All right," the guard grumbled. "You may pass."

Trembling with uneasiness, Christian followed the other four minstrels through the magnificent courtyard, and another guard showed them into the castle. Never in his life had Christian seen something so spectacular; imagine _living_ in a place so majestic! Having grown up in a tiny cabin, it seemed almost unreal to see such lovely things.

"You shall see the king in here," the guard said, swinging open a huge set of double doors to reveal a marvelous ballroom. The floor was so flawlessly polished that it seemed to sparkle, and elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. In the head of the room, the king sat in a jeweled throne, looking rather bored. He was a rather rabbit-like man, with floppy straw colored hair and a matching mustache. The expression on his face suggested that he'd just sipped sour milk.

"You are the minstrels?" asked the king, voice full of complete disinterest.

"Yes, Youw Highness," Henri responded, sinking down into an awkward bow and motioning for the others to copy the motion. 

"Well, then," the king's voice was so nasal that Christian had to refrain from either a) laughing or b) cringing each time he spoke. "Don't dally around. Get to it."

"Yes," Henri said quickly, standing up at once. "Yes, yes Youw Majesty."

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Christian dared not to breath, for it seemed too loud a noise to utter.

"Go, boy!" Jacek hissed, nudging Christian in the stomach.

Christian resisted the urge to double over, and instead croaked out, "Er...sorry, sorry."

"Really, boy, get on with it," ordered the king, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "I don't have all day."

"Yes, Your Highness," Christian said, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

_Forget you're here,_ he instructed himself. _Forget there's anyone listening. You're just out singing alone in the fields where not a soul can hear you._

"The hills are alive with the sound of music," he began, his warm tenor filling the room and bouncing off the walls, "With songs they have sung for a thousand years!"

"You're _him_!" the king screeched, cutting Christian off abruptly. A crazed cackle immediately escaped the king's lips. "You're him, you're the man with the gift of song!"

"Er..." Christian responded intelligently.

"You're him, you're him, you're him!" the king cried, looking as though he wanted to stand from his throne and dance around the room. "You're the one to go retrieve the girl from the Diamond Territory!"

"The Diamond Territory?" Christian repeated, dazed. He'd heard of it before, of course; it was where all the sirens resided, and was rumored to be a place full of passion and sin. No respectable man would ever be caught in such a place.

So naturally, it was the dream of _every_ respectable man to go there.

Every respectable man, of course, except Christian. He was naive to the ways of the world, and had spent his entire childhood in a dream world that he'd created.

To him, going there was scandalous and completely forbidden.

"You see," the king said excitedly, "It is obvious that a man as perfect as myself deserves only the most beautiful woman in the world as his queen, and it just so happens that the most beautiful woman in the world is a siren from the Diamond Territory. Her name is Satine, and she will be mine. Your job, my boy, is to go and capture her. When she sings to you, you shall sing back and her heart shall be yours. You will take her back to Monroth, and command that she spend the rest of her life with me."

"B...but Your Highness, isn't it written that the siren will waste away if not with the one who captured her?"

"Ah, yes, that," the king said, waving his hand dismissively. "You shall be made the royal entertainer here at the palace, and that way she'll always be close to you."

Royal entertainer??

This was amazing! Beyond his wildest dreams! 

"I'd be honored to do it, Your Highness, sir," he stammered. "Honored. My friends and I shall-"

"No, no, no!" cried the king. "It will be dangerous for your friends; they could easily be lost to the sirens and waste away there! No, you must go alone. You must go alone."

"All right," Christian said, giddy excitement rushing through him. 

"You and your fellow minstrels shall spend the night at the castle," the king said gallantly. "And next morning, you shall begin on your journey. When you return, you will be made royal entertainer. How does that sound?"

Amazing. Brilliant. Wonderful. 

"Perfect."


	3. The Siren

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Chapter Three

"My darling Satine, I love you more than anything," the man proclaimed, falling to his knees and clasping his hands together. "Please, please, my love, just one night! I shall die without you! My life drains from me when I'm not with you!"

"You are a fool," the siren responded evenly. "I do not love you. Go on, waste away. Your death means nothing to me."

"Satine!" his voice was frantic, desperate. "Satine, my darling, I _will_ die without you! Satine, I need you! I need you more than anything!"

"Remove yourself from my presence," she ordered coolly. "You make me ill."

"But Satine," he protested, tears now running down his face. "Satine, you're everything! My soul _aches_ for you! I can't eat, I can't sleep, I only think of you. You're so, so beautiful. Please...please, Satine, I'm dying of love-"

"Enough," she cut him off, her voice mercilessly slicing through his desperate pleas like a knife. "Do you _mean_ to insult me by claiming I cause you so much pain?"

"No!" he cried between choked sobs. "No, Satine, I love you! I love you more than anything! Please, please, I'll-"

"I don't love you, and I never will," she informed him, tone completely devoid of emotion. "How dare you even think yourself worthy of me? You are _nothing_." 

"Satine-"

"Get rid of him," she ordered. At those four words, two men entered the room and led the sobbing man out of her sight. 

His voice screamed out her name, desperate, pleading as they dragged him away from her. 

"Satine! Satine!"

Shaking her head and causing her red curls to lightly caress ivory skin, the young woman sighed. They were pathetic, the whole lot of them...desperate to love her, to be with her. Couldn't they see that when they came to her, they were throwing their own lives away? 

Men could be such fools. All they thought of was desire: not an ounce of common sense.

Still, guilt stabbed at her heart as the man's sobs echoed in her mind. He had a wife and children, she knew; now he would never see them again. Once a man fell under her spell, they spent the rest of their life trying to pursue her, even though the logical part of their mind kept telling them that they would never succeed.

Her piercing blue eyes absently scanned the gazebo where she resided. It was beautiful: red roses wove around the whole structure, their soft scent somehow calming to the senses. The chaise longue where her statuesque form currently rested was covered in red and gold silks, and a few matching scarves hung from the ceiling, dancing in the soft breeze. Fairies darted in and out of the gazebo, casting off scarlet and golden glows. 

It was beautiful; flawless.

Just like its owner.

With a light sigh, she rose from her chaise longue and stretched her arms gracefully, diamond bracelets glimmering in the soft light. The siren had a penchant for diamonds, and with good reason. After all, diamonds could never fail you. They were always beautiful, always sparkling, always there. Why bother with love when one could fail, while diamonds were certain and unending and forever?

"Diamonds..." she sang softly to herself, her deadly voice filling her own ears. "Diamonds..."

She yearned to sing, craved the sensation it gave her. Sirens couldn't go long without singing: it was in their nature. Their voices were their weapons, yes, but also their life source. Without singing, she felt smothered, restless, depressed. 

Her footsteps silent, she slowly made way outside and studied the pitch black sky. Stars danced across it, sparkling like the strands of diamonds that circled her frail wrists. Other sirens littered the grounds, singing and giggling and whispering coquettishly. 

Satine couldn't stand a single one of them. They were so ignorant: they all adored the attention that their voices earned them, and didn't even stop to consider that they were tearing the lives of the poor men apart. People probably thought that she herself didn't care, but it was the complete opposite. It broke her heart to hurt them so, and yet one could never even begin to expect it; she was amazingly skilled at hiding her emotions. 

If only she hadn't been cursed with this life...

And that is what it truly was, a curse. 

Her parents had been star-crossed lovers, their romance forbidden and secret. Her father had been engaged to another woman, but had left her once he'd met Satine's mother. The woman who her father had been engaged to had just so happened to be a witch, and mad with jealousy, she had tracked down her former fiancee and cursed their first child.

Satine could still remember the words perfectly, though her mother had only repeated them to her once.

_"I shall give the both of you your happy ending, but your first born shall not have that luxury. It will be a girl, and she will be blessed with the gift of song. Her voice will draw every male, cause them to waste away before her, craving her. She shall never know happiness. She shall never know love."_

Tears sprung to Satine's eyes as the fateful words danced through her mind, but she didn't allow them to fall from her eyes. Instead, she made her way out of the small village of sirens and into the forest that surrounded the Diamond Territory. On the other side of the forest was a beautiful waterfall where Satine would allow her time to pass in the evenings when the others didn't notice her absence.

She was there almost before she knew it: her feet had learned the way so well that it didn't even register in her mind anymore as she made her way there. Relief filled her as she reached the beautiful waterfall, its sound soothing her tortured soul. A songbird's sweet cooing filled her ears, joining the rush of water, until the bird grew tired of her and the sound of wings fluttering replaced the song. 

Oh, to fly...

If only Satine could fly.

But she could never fly, could never escape. She was trapped, trapped until the day she died. 

_I may as well grow used to my life,_ she thought daily. _This is all I'll ever have._

"I follow the night," she sang softly, tucking stray red tendrils behind her ears. "Can't stand the light..."

Sirens were considered monsters, creatures of the night. They were said not to have souls, not to be like normal human beings. After all, they weren't human beings. Just monsters.

Animals.

Voice full of angst-ridden misery, she asked the night a question that had haunted her for her entire life.

"When will I begin to live again?" 

_Never_, the logical side of her brain answered at once. _You'll never have love or happiness. You know what was said in the curse. Don't doubt it._

And yet...yet, she couldn't bring herself to believe that this was all life could be.

"One day I'll fly away," she promised herself a bit timidly, almost afraid to say the words aloud. "Leave all this to yesterday."

Was it possible? Was it?

Something inside of her, a little voice that she had silenced years upon years ago, whispered a single word.

_Yes._

"Why live life from dream to dream?" Satine sang at the top of her lungs, flinging her arms out and allowing the words to flow from her body and into the night. Her voice echoed, bouncing back at her over and over before the silence resumed.

"And dread the day," she added softly, "When dreaming...ends."

She was losing what little faith she had; it slipped through her fingers like cupped hands trying in vain to hold water. 

And as soon as that faith was gone, Satine would be as well. Left would be the legendary siren, an empty shell of a jaded young woman who'd wasted away amongst diamonds and misery.

"One day I'll fly away," she repeated halfheartedly, voice barely a whisper. "Fly...fly....

Away." 


	4. The Lovers Meet

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Chapter Four 

It had been a long journey, but not particularly difficult. Christian was used to traveling long distances, but it had usually been with his father or older brothers. This journey he'd made alone, nearly drowning in nervousness all the while. The morning he'd left, what he was doing had sunk in.

He was going to the land of the sirens, possibly to be lost forever.

And now he was here.

Pale pink blossoms of cherry trees shimmered in the soft moonlight, and he cautiously made his way through the forest. Fairies danced their way through the night sky, giggling and pointing downward at him.

Fairy dust swarmed through the air, sparkling gold and scarlet. The grass was soft beneath his feet, lush and a brilliant shade of emerald. Diamonds seemed to be everywhere, shining magnificently. 

And then he heard the moaning.

With a startled gasp, he followed his eyes forward to see a huge crowd of men, down at their knees and wailing. Most were in tears, many shrieking the names of assorted sirens. They were all sickly, thin...wasting away before his very eyes.

The damned sirens didn't even care.

Christian was usually a kind person, but hatred surged through him. How could they do this to the poor men, men with families and women that they genuinely loved and yet would never see again??

It was enough to make one ill.

Christian was about to turn and make his way back empty-handed, even though there was a great possibility that the king would have him killed for failing him. Oh well. It was better than spending the rest of his life here, in this place, eternally bewitched and-

"Kiss..."

His thoughts disappeared at once, wiping his mind blissfully blank as the voice filled his ears. He couldn't see its owner, but knew at once that it was _her_. He recalled faintly in the back of his mind that the king had told him her name, and yet every thought had made its way from his head, leaving nothing but the voice.

He'd never heard anything like it before...so sweet and yet sultry, so purely beautiful...completely intoxicating...

Oh, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. To kiss her and touch her and feel her body next to his. To...

**NO!**

Christian shook his head vigorously. No, no, no! He couldn't be lost to her like this! Not after one word.

And yet the voice persisted.

"Hand...diamonds...best friend."

He could see her now, stepping out from the forest, alabaster skin glowing radiantly in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful creature Christian had ever seen in his entire life. Such beauty couldn't be imagined, even by the most creative person on the planet. Fiery curls danced down her back, a waterfall of silky scarlet. Her skin was the fairest ivory, flawless and looking so soft that Christian wanted nothing more than to brush his callused fingers against it. Her tall, slim body was wrapped in a long red dress, sparkling brilliantly as though enchanted (and perhaps it was) and revealing smooth bare shoulders. 

And her lips...

Sweet and lush and the deepest crimson that Christian had ever seen in his entire life. Oh, he longed to kiss her, to feel those lips upon his own-

_No! No!_ the logical side of his brain screamed at the top of its lungs. (Or it would have, if brains had lungs.)_ Stop! Stop! You're throwing your life away! Stop it! Turn and run!_

She continued, raising one side of her mouth in a coquettish half-smile. It was inviting, as though asking him to come over to her, to fulfill the carnal fantasies that had unwillingly fought their way into his mind. 

"Kiss," she breathed, drawing out the word. As it escaped her lips, Christian wanted, _needed_ to sweep her up into his arms, to kiss her, just once...just once...

"Grand," she continued, stepping closer to him. "Diamonds...best friend..."

_Sing, you fool!_ his mind yelled. _Now! Now! Sing!_

_Sing what??_ he thought desperately.

_ANYTHING! JUST SING!_

The siren opened her mouth to let out the next word, but before she could, Christian's voice filled the silent air.

"My gift is my song..."

She fell silent at once, and her piercing blue eyes suddenly changed. Instead of sparkling triumphantly, as though sure that she had him under her spell, they were unprotected, almost vulnerable.

"And this one's for you," he continued, a smile making its way onto his face. Oh, he had her now! It had been close, yes, but he'd trapped her...she was his, his.

And yet it seemed so wrong for him to _own_ a woman.

_But she's not a woman_, he reminded himself. _She's a creature, a monster._

He was silent for a few teasing moments, and the siren studied him hopefully, eyes filled with longing.

"Please, don't stop," she requested, her voice barely a whisper.

She looked so naive, so completely enticed by his song. He had captured her, he had ensnared her, and yet...

She was a thousand times more beautiful now, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as though yearning to drink in the sound of his voice. 

No one had ever really asked anything of him...no woman had ever loved him.

_She doesn't love you,_ the logical side of his brain reminded him, _She's lost to you...chained to you._

And yet in his heart, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Her eyes, studying the ground previously, met his, and at once he knew that they were meant to be together.

At once he knew that he loved her.

"And you can tell everybody," he continued; softly this time, sweetly. "That this is your song..."

She took a few steps towards him, as though in a trance. Her arms wrapped around him, resting lazily on his shoulders. Their eyes were locked, and Christian wasn't sure he could even remember his name.

"It may be quite simple, but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words..."

He didn't know the song: the words were unknown to him even as they spilled from his lips.

"How wonderful life is," he breathed softly, caressing her cheek, "Now you're in the world..."

The words lingered in the air for a moment before she replied in song, a sweet melody filling the balmy night.

"I am lost to you now....there's no amount of reason to save me."

"Lost to me?" he repeated weakly.

She nodded, looking a bit scared. "I...your song, it...I am yours now." As she said the next words, she cringed involuntarily.

"I...you can do what you like with me. Whatever you wish, I must do."

Christian had always been naive, having never left his home until so recently, and didn't understand what she spoke of until she began to trail kisses across his neck.

"N...no," he stammered shyly. "No, I...no."

She looked up at him, eyes wide with disbelief. "You...you understand that you can use me however you like?"

Christian felt his cheeks flush crimson as he nodded.

"And yet..." her lovely voice trailed off, and she studied him as though she were completely baffled and intoxicated all at once. "You're not like the rest of them."

"The rest of them?" Christian asked faintly.

"Men," she said simply. "I thought they were all the same."

Christian had no idea what to say to that, and decided to reply with a sheepish smile.

"W...well..." he stuttered before giving up completely on coherent speech. 

She was silent for a moment, watching him with an intensity that caused blood to pulsate though his veins at a frightening speed. 

"Will you promise me something?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

"Of course."

_Anything_.

"Please..." she breathed, her sapphire gaze falling to the ground as she continued meekly, "Please don't hurt me."

"I won't," he promised.

He wouldn't.

~*~

"What's your name?" Satine asked as they made their way through the dark forest. Night had long since fallen, and haunting, everlasting blackness surrounded them. The young man's steadying hand clung to hers as they walked.

"Christian," he responded with a grin that Satine could barely make out in the shadows. "What's yours?"

"Satine."

After a silent moment of what seemed to be careful consideration, he replied delicately, "It fits."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"It's...very beautiful," he responded. Satine could practically hear him blushing. "Like you. It's...you...you're very beautiful."

A wide, giddy smile spread across Satine's face, and she hoped that he couldn't see it in the dark of night.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a moment of silence that she used to compose herself.

"Monroth," Christian replied, sounding a bit crestfallen. "It's a kingdom...have you heard of it?"

"Yes," Satine said. "Why are we going there?"

"I...well..." he stammered, flustered. "I...we're...you...the king..."

"King?" Satine repeated, interested.

"Well, you see, you're not exactly meant to stay with me," he said weakly.

As soon as the eleven words escaped from his lips, Satine felt her soaring heart fall to the very depths of her jaded soul. She'd come to love this man in the few precious hours they'd spent together, and she knew that feelings this strong couldn't be the mere curse of the captured siren. 

Now she had to leave him.

Swallowing back a sob, she uttered one word.

"Why."

It wasn't a question, not really; instead, it was a sad sort of statement, possessing the bittersweet knowledge that she'd been aware all along that it had been too good to be true.

"The king wants a wife," Christian responded almost glumly. "He heard my voice and sent me out to capture you." In a tone of forced brightness, he added, "You're to be the queen! I'm sure it will be wonderful!"

"Why does he want me?" Satine asked blankly. "I'm a creature of sin...a temptress, a whore."

"You...well....I...you...I don't know...he-"

"It's because I'm beautiful," Satine cut him off tersely.

"Well...yes."

Satine laughed ruefully. "I should have known. I really should have known something like this would happen."

She sighed deeply, then proclaimed, "Well, you'd better tell your king that I won't be around for long. I'll waste away without you, you know."

"I'll be there," Christian responded eagerly. "I'm going to be made the royal entertainer. I'll still see you."

She tried to convince herself that merely seeing him would be enough, but she knew that it wouldn't. Something in her soul told her that she needed to be with him, to love him.

Anything less simply wasn't enough.

"It won't be the same," she said simply. 

To love him was pure stupidity, she knew that much. Theirs was a love doomed from the very beginning, a love that would only end in tragedy.

But as he squeezed her hand lightly and caressed her cheek with his lips, Satine realized that at the moment she couldn't bring herself to care.


	5. Spectacular!

****

Author's Note: Eeek...sorry about the severe lack of updates! I actually forgot for a while that I was writing this story. Then I remembered and had writer's block. But thanks to the wonderful Milla, who gave me the whole Hindi Territory idea, I am writing again! Whee!!

Enjoy, my diamond darlings. :)

And this is for Milla, even if she DOES think AR looks good in pink aprons and eyeliner. *shudders at the mental picture* I love ya anyway. :)

****

Chapter Five: Spectacular!

Traveling long distances wasn't something that Satine was accustomed to. As a matter of fact, before Christian had come, she hadn't even left the Diamond Territory before.

Well, they'd been walking for a whole day now, and she was exhausted.

To put it lightly.

"Are you tired?" Christian asked, concerned, from where he stood about twenty feet ahead of her, not looking the least bit winded.

"Just...a...little..." Satine wheezed, lifting her skirt as she stepped over a puddle. It seemed like the crimson satin weighed around a million pounds.

"We can rest for a while," he offered, walking back toward where she stood. 

"No, no," Satine said, holding back a groan. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

Christian studied her skeptically, a smirk on his face.

"_What_??" she snapped teasingly. "You don't think I can take it??"

"You want the truth?" he retorted.

"Yes."

"No way in hell," he responded with a mischievous grin.

"You're lucky I'm too exhausted to come over there," Satine threatened, tiredly waving a fist at him. "Or you'd be in trouble, mister."

"Watch me as I tremble in trepidation," he deadpanned.

Too tired to form a reply that required words, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mature," he commented.

"Thank you," she replied tersely.

"Don't worry," Christian said. "You won't be forced to waste away much longer, fair maiden. We're getting close to the Hindi Territory."

"What's that?" Satine asked, feeling a bit embarrassed at her ignorance regarding Rougia's geography.

"It's a nice place, about a mile away from here-"

"A mile??" Satine cut off miserably.

Christian nodded gravely. "'Fraid so. Anyway, it's definitely an experience. Magic carpets, genies, harem girls, maharajas...very exotic."

"Sounds intriguing," Satine grinned. "Have you been there before?"

"A few times," he replied. "With my father and sister."

Satine sighed. "I've never been anywhere."

"Anywhere?" Christian repeated incredulously.

She shook her head. "Not out of the Diamond Territory, anyway."

"Well, then, we've definitely got to make this journey interesting," Christian declared. "I'm going to show you everything!"

"Everything?" Satine asked with a doubtful smile. "That might take awhile."

"Well, everything in our path, then," Christian promised. "You're going to have the time of your life."

"Am I?" Satine asked, still beaming. 

"Of course."

"Because," Satine continued, "You know, I'm not having the time of my life at the moment. As a matter of fact, I'm feeling pretty dead."

"Too weak to take it?" Christian teased.

"Don't rub it in," she instructed. "I think I'm about to die. I'll just collapse right here if you don't mind."

"No," Christian said stubbornly. "We're getting to the Hindi Territory before nightfall."

"Chriiiiiistian," Satine wailed, drawing out his name shrilly. "Perhaps it has yet to register in your mind that I'm going to _die_."

"Nah, I actually caught that part," he replied with a grin.

"And yet you're _still_ making me walk?" Satine asked, gasping in mock offense. "How dare you??"

"We're getting there," Christian repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Even if I have to carry you."

Satine grinned. "Oh, really?"

"Really," he nodded.

"Well then, good sir," she said with a saccharine smile. "By all means, do so."

"What??" Christian asked.

"Carry me," she instructed.

Christian studied her skeptically.

"I was just kidding, you know."

"I don't care," Satine said. "Carry me or...."

Christian watched her, expectant. "Or?"

"Else!" Satine finished triumphantly.

He smirked. "Well, isn't that original."

"Yes," she shot back. 

He sighed heavily. "You really want me to?"

"Of course."

He shrugged. "Okay."

And before Satine could even register the fact that he was moving, he had scooped her up into his arms and balanced her over his shoulder. She studied his back and let out a scream of indignance.

"CHRISTIAN!!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "You said you wanted me to carry you."

"I was thinking in a more _romantic_ manner," Satine responded, voice bouncing with each step he took. "Not slapping me over your shoulder like some knapsack!"

"You never specified what kind of carrying you wanted me to do," he pointed out.

"Well, I'm specifying it now!!" Satine cried. "Now: put. Me. Down."

Christian obliged, setting her down on the ground again.

"Now, let's try this again, shall we?" she asked.

"Fine," Christian said. He lifted her again, this time gently, and she slung her arms around his shoulders as he held her in a fashion usually reserved for assorted princesses and Prince Charming.

"This better?" he asked, a half-smile lighting up his face.

Satine smiled. "Much."

~ * ~

"This is amazing," Satine breathed as they stepped through the threshold that revealed the Hindi Territory.

"It's great, isn't it?" Christian responded, setting her down on the ground again.

She nodded, entwining her fingers with his. Her blue eyes were wide with amazement as she scanned the activities around them. In one corner, a crowd had circled around a sword-eater in the process of sticking the blade into his mouth.

"What the hell is he doing??" Satine cried at once. "He's sure drawn a crowd for his suicide."

"They make sort of a show of that here," Chasten responded. 

"Strange," Satine murmured before continuing her inspection. Lines of tents and booths surrounded them, draped in brightly colored silks as merchants shouted out advertisements for their products.

Right in front of them, a few young women clad in red harem costumes appeared out of thin air.

"Witches?" Satine murmured in awe.

"Genies," Christian whispered back. "Pretty common around here."

Satine nodded slowly as Christian watched her in amusement. They were approaching a group of dancing young women, singing out something in a foreign language he couldn't decipher. A group of men watched them, rapt and wide eyed. One of them was dressed in fine clothes, a scarlet turban and an intricately embroidered robe covered with golden elephants and crimson palm trees.

Realization dawned on him.

"It's the maharaja," he informed Satine in a hushed tone.

Her eyes widened. "He's like the king, isn't he?"

Christian nodded.

"Well, what's he doing down with the commoners?"

"Class rankings don't matter much here, I suppose," Christian responded, watching in interest.

The entertainers finished, and the maharaja applauded merrily. 

"What do you think, Harry?" the regally clad woman next to him asked.

He shook his head. "No...none of them are quite what I'm looking for. All are exceptional, but they just don't fit."

The maharaja rose with a grim sigh, muttering to the woman, who Christian suspected was his wife, and then suddenly froze as his eyes fell upon Satine. 

"You're her!"

"Um...excuse me, Your Highness?" Satine asked awkwardly.

"We've found her, Marie!" the maharaja cried, delighted. "You're perfect!!"

"...thank you?" Satine said weakly.

"You see, my dear, there's going to be a great play at the palace in a few months, but we simply couldn't find a woman to portray our female lead! You're perfect! Do you act?"

"I can," Satine responded.

"Wonderful!" cried the maharaja. "Spectacular! Would you be interested?"

"Um...you see, I'm meant to meet the king of Monroth," Satine replied. "But perhaps he would allow it..."

"Spectacular!" the maharaja repeated. "Now, what's your name, child?"

"Satine," she responded. "And this is Christian."

"Christian! Nice to meet you, boy!" the maharaja said, shaking his hand with vigor. 

"You too, Your Highness."

"Oh, stop with this 'Your Highness' business!" instructed the maharaja at once. "I was Harry Zidler before I came to this place, and I'm still Harry! You call me that! I'll have no formalities!"

"All right..." Satine and Christian said awkwardly.

"Wonderful!" the maharaja cried. "I insist that the two of you stay at the palace tonight! Then you can continue on your journey to Monroth and write me to see if you can participate!"

"It sounds wonderful," Satine said with a smile, looking a bit shaken. 

The maharaja snapped, and at once the rug that he'd been sitting on hovered around three feet into the air.

"Whoa," Satine murmured involuntarily.

Christian nodded. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

The maharaja boarded the magic carpet, helped his wife up, and then gestured to the room on the back.

"Hop on!" he ordered. "I won't have you _walk_ to the palace!"

Satine and Christian exchanged a look of awed amusement before boarding the carpet.

Christian smiled as he watched her, the wind tousling her hair as she closed her eyes, a lazy smile on her lips.

Satine seemed to enjoy flying.


End file.
